Victor and Escort
by NotAThatGoodAWriter
Summary: misseffie. posted this: headcanon i want: Effie and Johanna to become friends while imprisoned. So yeah, a couple of hours later this happened :) quickly racked it up, but enjoy guys :3


The hall was dark, silent but for a few quiet murmurs through the damp walls; somewhere a light flickered randomly on and off, disturbing the otherwise stagnant feel of the cells, shadows flinching against the walls as the passed with heavy footfalls down the corridor. A clanging of keys pierced the air, dragging, shuffling, and the sound of a body making a resonant 'thunk' against the concrete floor of a cell. And the distinct sound of someone spitting. Johanna wiped a wet hand across her mouth, grimacing up at the guards who stood disgusted just outside her door, spit smeared across ones boot. His lip twitched menacingly before he shoved an angry foot deep into her side, sending her backward into the cell, a snicker escaping his lips as he turned back to his colleague, mumbling something about Victors being a dying breed…

She dragged herself up. Propping her tired, aching body against the back wall of the cell. Sodden clothing sticking to her wet skin, she breathed heavily, still feeling the residual tingling through her body. Electroshocking. She glanced down at her wrists, red and raw from the binds they used to tie her down; strapped to a chair and drenched with water before they electrocuted her repeatedly, her skin crawled at the thought that there would be more of it to come tomorrow. She'd never tell them anything, anything useful anyway. Like she said, they couldn't hurt her like they could the others. In the silence she sat, knees brought up in front of her and arms resting languidly on them as she stared forward, all other things blurring into the cold abyss and her focus resting on the droplets of water than periodically fell from her hair. She sat like this a while. Letting the unfortunate unintentional twitching subside as much as it was going to…wondering if she'd twitch like an idiot forever.

Crashing. Her eyes snapped up and across the cell, through the bars and as far into the dark hallway as they could see. But nothing much moved, just some distant shadows dancing on the far wall. Muttered voices and muffled undiscernible sounds clattering down the hard steps, Johanna flinched slightly –whether it was a flinch or a twitch she didn't quite know- as she heard the all too familiar sound of a body being hauled down the steps; she knew herself how hard and unforgiving they could be from trying to wrestle out of the hold of a guard, only to find herself toppling down over the concrete. The shadows came into view, the twisted, reckless faces of two other guards clad in thick black protective gear, each gripping the arm of a woman tightly, her head bowed in vague consciousness as the rest of her dragged along behind them. _Is that? _She thought, moving hesitantly to the bars. The two men dragged the feeble looking woman gruffly along the corridor, her faint murmurs could be heard over their grunts and grumbling as they passed by the other cells, coming past Johanna's she saw the sickly smirks on their faces. Her eyes narrowed, her teeth clenched. Their intentions were obvious to anyone who'd been in their long enough. Long enough to hear it, never see it. Muffled cries and scuffling, dragging and the soft thud of prisoners being wrestled to the ground and pinned there, grunts and moans in the distance that could only be stifled by pressing your hands so far against your ears it hurt. The woman's head lolled, she was clearly medicated to some degree, Johanna thought. Then she looked, barely a glance, but it was enough to see her face "Trinket…" Johanna murmured under her breath, the guards carried on their way to the cell next door, throwing open the door and letting Effie tumble to the ground. The smallest of breaths came from her as she hit the concrete, weakly looking up at the men who loomed over her, trying in vain to mouth some words of protest. Her blood ran cold as one, with a dark gentility, kicked her over onto her back; faintly she saw the ghost like wisp of a woman in the cell next door, her face peering disgustedly through the bars, vaguely recognised the battered woman. Johanna stared, her fists clenching around the bars, the man who'd kicked her tried to step into the darkness of the cell but was stopped by the mad flailing of a fist that found his jaw. He stumbled backwards out of the cell again, Johanna raging through the bars clattering her fists into anything they could find: arm, leg, concrete, face, metal. Her cheeks pressed against the bars as she screamed at the two who tried to grasp her manic limbs. Wild fingers clawing at skin, feeling it gather under her nails, tearing at uniforms and dragging them away from the bars of the cell. Her legs now, sticking effortlessly through the bars with her thin, weakened body and kicking frantically. She'd finally snapped. Too long had she been sat in the dark of the cell, too long had she been dragged back and forth to be tortured and interrogated fruitlessly and relentlessly, and too long had she put up with the arrogance of guards. Effie tried to gather herself, work her way up to a sitting position, only managing to prop her body that seemed heavy beyond it's size up on one bruised arm. She watched in as much horror as the hazed state of her mind would allow, questioning if this was even happening; figures moved through a mist, a purple fog that clouded her vision. Pale wings of some bird seemed to dance with darkened silhouettes, flashes of red ribbons striking through the air. Familiar shouts and screams were fighting their way into her head, though she couldn't make them out. Soon, Johanna felt their blood lightly coat her knuckles and her body slowly tire, she didn't have the energy like she used to. She pried her eyes open and stared manically out through the bars, one man had already fled, the scuffling of his boots up the concrete heard through a haze of blood rushing through her ears. The second man stood dumbfounded and horrified, staggering backward down the hall, blood trickling from his nose "You're fucked now, Mason" he growled, quickly locking Effie's cell and darting after the other one. Effie saw the dark shadow lean over toward her and cowered back in fear, scrambling away to the back of the cell, but her movements were slow and liquid, barely moving a few inches before she collapsed in a heap, curling into a ball with her back to him, eyes forcing shut and hearing the thick sounds of bars clattering shut.

Johanna fell back, breathing heavily her tired body failed her and fell to the floor. A small stinging sensation circled a small area of her arm; she turned it over. A vile, no bigger than her little finger, stuck out of the skin, a thin needle pointed down into her arm, the tiniest droplet of blood collecting round the mark. Thin black markers on the glass lined the side, a pale blue liquid seeping lower and lower in the container as it filtered into her arm, her gaze drifted upward to her hand, seeing the violent red staining her skin and mingling with the water that still covered her, she smirked to herself.

Effie's head rolled over, her eyes cautiously pealing open to find the hallway thankfully empty. She breathed a shallow sigh of relief, knowing they would be back. Images replayed in her mind, the glorious, almost angelic bird that danced became more vicious, more sinister; its beak was sharp with razor teeth and spiteful talons sprouting from the ends of its white feathered wings. Slowly in her mind it melted, feathers dropped and skin appeared, smooth and glistening in the ominous light, and the face, more recognisable now. She knew it. From where she couldn't quite place and wasn't likely too in the immediate future as the chemicals in her veins burrowed their way deeper into her body. She shuffled, crept along the damp, dirty floor to the edge of the cell, bitter light catching on the metal bars. Gripping one softly in her hand, the rough cold metal pinching her skin, she slipped her other arm through the bars, lazily sweeping it across the floor. Johanna gazed up from her hand, seeing the ghostly white limb moving across to her cell, fingers unfurled in-front of her with the remnants of glossy pink varnish chipped from the nails. Yeah, it was her alright. Her smirk softened as she stretched her own arm out of the cell bars and across to her; their hands touched almost senselessly, their fingers closed around each-other. Victor and Escort. This was the game they'd chosen to play. And this was the game they'd lost. For now. They drifted into an unconsciousness, a silent gratitude floating on the air. Hands held through bars in the dark.


End file.
